


To Remember You By

by IShipThem



Series: The Motherhood Verse [3]
Category: Sister Claire (Webcomic)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-29
Updated: 2015-08-29
Packaged: 2018-04-17 19:59:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,157
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4679450
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IShipThem/pseuds/IShipThem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Little Claire’s thoughts on her mother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To Remember You By

Mom got angry a lot.

Claire noticed that soon. She could almost feel it sometimes, even if she had her back turned; sense mommy’s spine go tense, feel the hard muscles on her jaw when she clenched her teeth, or hear the small hiss of pain when her nailbeds began bleeding. Claire felt it like the sun on the back of your nape. If they were together, she could tell.

And they were often together, Claire and her mom. She took the girl along more often than not. Claire didn’t mind because most of her mom’s friends liked her too, and if mom was too busy, there was always someone else to draw with. Plus, she liked being with her.

Even if mom got angry a lot.

But she was never angry at her. Well, sometimes. But mom being angry at her was very, very different from mom being angry at other people. Claire didn’t quite grasp who those people were, but she figured they must’ve been really, really awful. She knew: they were the ones that hurt Uncle Wren’s foot and took Auntie Lark’s voice, and the reason mom’s hands were full of scars and that Auntie Oscar was embarrassed to take showers together. Claire knew. She didn’t know these people. But she knew she didn’t like them.

So of course, it followed mom was angry at them a lot. Claire was angry, too! But not quite the anger mom felt.

Mom’s anger was – well, Claire didn’t know. She thought, it wasn’t scary, but it was different from every other person being angry. She didn’t know why exactly.

Mom got angry sometimes when all her friends got together. Claire could tell, cause then everyone got Serious. And mom got that look on her face like she was thinking so hard her brain was going to boil, and when they got home, she’d ask Claire: “A-a-re you s-s-sick of ma-mac ‘n’ cheese ye-yet?”

Claire was never sick of mac ‘n’ cheese.

Mom was also often angry when they went to parades or manifestations or marches. Claire figured it was the police. She always tensed when they got too close, squeezing Claire until she was hidden behind her hair. More than once, Claire’d gotten handed to someone else – one of her aunts our uncles. She’d wait at home for mom. And then Clementine would arrive, tired, angry, sometimes hurt. Claire patted her hair while someone else handled the ice bags and Band-Aids and the such. Mom liked it when Claire patted her hair.

Claire had never seen a police person hurt her mom, but she thought it was probably them. She didn’t like when Aunt Oscar wore her uniform. Sometimes, she wondered if Aunt Oscar was the only nice police person there was. And if so, that she had to be very brave to be around other police person all day long.

Mom got angry a lot.

But she also got hurt a lot.

Claire woke up sometimes in the middle of the night to the sound of her mother’s pacing. All around their flat, hands in her back, breathing in and out and in. Claire knew. Mom had had a bad accident. She didn’t like riding cars. Her back hurt, and the doctors didn’t know why; it just did.

Hot compresses helped. So did painkillers. Sometimes. Sometimes not.

She had migraines, and they could last for days. Claire learned how to dial Aunt Catharine’s number whenever mom shut the binders during the day; it meant one of them was coming, but she wouldn’t admit until it hurt very badly.

There were times she couldn’t hold Claire in her lap. There were times she couldn’t crack an egg ‘cause her hands shook.

Aunt Gabrielle was like that, too. She had bad days and good days. Bad weeks and good weeks. Sometimes she was pale like the inside of Claire’s wrist – other times she was brown like Aunt Lark. Brown days were good days.

Pale days also made mom angry. Claire gathered it was because Aunt Gabrielle needed medicine, and lots of rest, and also other stuff, and those mean people wouldn’t give it to her. She also gathered that was why they were always so worried about money. They needed it for Aunt Gabrielle! After that, Claire stopped asking for lollipops and pancakes. She liked toast better.

Mom got angry a lot.

But she told Claire stories with funny voices, and tickled her on the living room floor and planted pretty flowers on the windowsill for her. She rocked Claire to sleep on hazy afternoons. Chased her on the park. Mom was kind and fun and smart and when Claire cried, she patted her back and kissed her hair, and nothing felt as bad as before.

Mom knew a lot about birds. On weekends, she took Claire bird watching. They took turns on their binoculars and whistled bird cries to one another and worked on their Bird Binder. At night, eating bread with butter, they drew the birds they’d seen that day. Mom taught her first letters. C for Claire and Clementine and Catharine.

And then she’d put her to bed, tucking Claire in. On good days, she’d lay with her. Their foreheads pressed together in the dark, mom whispered nice dreams. Cats and beaches and summer and friends. Sometimes, Claire resisted sleep just to listen to it a little bit longer.

Mom loved her loved her loved her.

Mom got angry a lot.

Other people were angry at her a lot too. Sometimes they left ugly messages, which’s why Claire wasn’t allowed to answer the phone. The twins were not allowed to see mom’s stuff in the internet, either. But they did it anyway, and Claire knew ‘cause she caught them at it once, and they wouldn’t let her see. She thought maybe they didn’t want her to know the mean stuff her mom got called.

They yelled it on the streets sometimes, though. Claire didn’t understand most of it. Mom covered her ears and told her to start singing and hurried her along. But even if Claire didn’t hear it, she saw mom’s face afterwards.

She saw Aunt Catharine’s worry; Aunt Oscar’s fear when she had to pick up mom; Aunt Maggie trying too hard to distract her.

Until one day—one day they were walking to the bank, hand in hand, and someone screamed behind them. Mom’s hand tightened around hers. Hurried her along. Suddenly, there was more screaming. Mom picked her up, started walking faster, then faster still, and then turned a corner on a run.

Mom got angry a lot.

People got angry at mom a lot.

Claire didn’t understand. How could people be so mad at her mom? How could they hate her so much? She was amazing; she was wonderful; she was the best mom in the planet!

Mom got angry a lot.

But now mom’s gone.

And Claire’s angry too.


End file.
